


(630)

by niceinternet



Series: TFLN-inspired Bechloe [1]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Drinking, F/F, Fluff, drinking and fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 01:58:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6137350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niceinternet/pseuds/niceinternet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>just some stupid things inspired by TFLN. i haven't written in a while so please forgive me but i am bechloe trash. comments of all kinds are super duper appreciated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(630)

Beca has, over the years, come to terms (slowly, painfully, still) with waking up in a mess of limbs tangled with hers and various parts pressed against other parts. Especially after a particularly rowdy night in the Bella house.  
  
Which honestly was, like, every other night.  
  
Most of it was _her_ doing. They way she boldly, unabashedly embraced Beca (literally) and made her be okay with the unsolicited physical contact. It took months of course. Bumping elbows and hips and slipping her hand into Beca's. Throwing her arms around her. Pulling her places when Beca wasn't as excited as she wanted her to be. Pressing against her on the couch, in Beca's bed (where she invited herself), in a booth way too small to fit all the Bellas but damn did they try. Eventually Beca stopped jerking away. Stopped stiffening like maybe if she was still enough the other girl (or Beca herself) would just melt away. She would just smile lazily, roll her eyes, let it happen. Pretend to not take joy as her smooth skin sent jolts of who even knows what through her each and every time. It took even longer for her to be okay with the rest of the Bellas touching her so openly but, whatever, she got over it.  
  
So yeah Beca has grown up. A little. Somewhat. She kind of hated it (wished she hated it), the way this group of nerdy misfits could insert themselves in her life and make her change things about herself. She inwardly cringed at the term change. People didn't change. Beca didn't change. They (one person) simply chipped and ground and peeled at the layers. They (she) slowly but surely revealed what was always there all along. Freshman Beca would bristle at the thought. She would have huffed and mumbled things under her breath and removed herself from the situation before it escalated to them in a heap on the living room floor or even had a chance to stop her. And she's not so sure anyone would have, then. Well, _she_ would have. But Beca was more preoccupied with sputtering as locks of hair fell into her mouth when she unthinkingly drew in a sharp breath as the events of the night that had barely just ended blared in her mind.  
  
There was a lot of her. (Chloe, of course). And the others, naturally. Fat Amy was impossible to ignore and even Aubrey was fun to watch when she was heavily intoxicated. But Beca spent most (all) of her time focused on the red head with something akin to adoration. It wasn't a secret, really, it was just wasn't spoken. Out loud. To Chloe. So what? She knew. Beca knew she knew. And Chloe knew Beca knew she knew. It was a thing. It was great. They're just best friends utterly head over heels for each other but neither openly talked about it. Beca for fear of fucking things up simply by mentioning it (feelings, _love_ , ugh). Chloe for no reason other than she loves Beca and she knew her so intricately that she thought better of shouting it from the rooftops (which she totally almost did on three separate occasions before the Bellas talked her down).  
  
Chloe drank and danced and drank some more. Beca watched and sipped and danced a little by force (not much) but eventually ended up back on the couch.  
  
"You're going to leave an imprint of your cute butt on that cushion." Chloe dropped clumsily into her lap, arms around Beca's neck and face already so much closer than Beca is ready for. Beca just puffs out a laugh and leans back a little for some _goddamn air_ because vodka makes you drunk but Chloe is down right intoxicating.  
  
"That sounds almost like a compliment," she muses, setting darker blue eyes on Chloe's impossible ones. She expects some banter to ensue but it doesn't, which, weird. Chloe is just staring at her. It's actually starting to make Beca uneasy and she shifts under her, hands bracing Chloe's hips for a split second. She watches her eyebrows grow closer together, watches her forehead crease and her eyes intensify, squinting a little. " _Dude_."  
  
"You're important," Chloe blurts at the same time and before Beca knows it she dashes off into another room, leaving her dumbstruck and mouthing 'what the fuck'. It's less than two minutes when Chloe returns, flouncing, dancing through the Bellas and back to Beca. She straddles her hips and sure they're blatant about their attraction to each other but never like this in front of everyone. Beca feels her cheeks heat and it climbs all the way to the tips of her ears.  
  
"Chlo, what are you--" She's silenced by a very determined looking ginger and another fervent whisper of 'you're important' before a bright pink highlighter is being brought towards her face and "Whoa dude what the _actual fuck_ are you doing?!" Beca almost shrieks, grabbing Chloe's wrist just inches from her nose, eyes wide and slightly terrified.  
  
"You. Are. Important." Chloe insists, pushing against Beca's grip, tongue caught between her lips in pure concentration and Beca is beyond bewildered.  
  
"Okay yeah fine I hear you but what-- Are you trying to _highlight_ me like a fucking-- **Chloe**." Beca's voice takes a serious turn, deepens a little, eyes hardening, and it's enough to get Chloe to stop putting literally all of her weight behind the highlighter now gripped in both hands. She deflates, drops her hands, pouts. Beca softens but not before stealthily removing the offensive office supply from Chloe's limp hand and tossing it far, far away. "Okay I'm-- Chlo, stop, I'm sorry," Beca says with sincerity, hooking her finger under the other girls chin and forcing her gaze her way. "You're important too, you know." It's such a private, intimate moment. Beca is sharing a part of herself and Chloe is so drunk she probably won't remember which makes sense, Beca is probably (definitely) banking on that. And all the Bellas are ignoring them because maybe they don't actually notice or are trying to be respectful. Whatever the reason, Beca is grateful. It's enough for Chloe, for the moment, who rolls off to the side, dragging Beca down with her and cuddling up against her as if it's an every night thing (it's not, except maybe it is). It doesn't take long for Chloe to completely pass out (Beale: 0, Tequila: lost count) and Beca would be right behind her if Chloe's words would stop bouncing around her head enough. 'You're important' over and over and Beca tried not to _feel_ the outpouring honesty and devotion and meaning Chloe put behind two stupid words. Tried and failed.  
  
Beca usually doesn't linger long once she's woken up but a particular ginger is still clinging hard to her side. She stirs with a 'huh' and a hum and blinks her eyes open before groaning and snapping them shut again. The nights Chloe can't remember are far and few in between. Beca always knows which nights these are though because Chloe wakes up differently (wow, Mitchell, not creepy) when she can't put the pieces together. Beca is just watching her, pure amusement dancing across her features.  
  
"What?" Chloe grumbles and it's so cute Beca has a hard time stifling the laugh that follows. "What could I have possibly done to embarrass myself this time?"  
  
Beca takes a minute. She lets Chloe marinate in the anticipation of Beca's answer. She finally speaks when Chloe, impatient as ever, shoves at Beca's shoulder and actually whines. "I don't know what kind of drugs you were on last night but you kept trying to highlight my face because you said I was important."  
  
Chloe stiffens for the briefest of moments then shrugs and settles back against Beca's chest. "Well I wasn't wrong."

**Author's Note:**

> pure. bechloe. trash.
> 
> (630): I don't know what kind of drugs you were on last night but you kept trying to highlight my face because you said I was important. - TFLN


End file.
